In Your Eyes // Steve Rogers

7

Destination: the Triskeleon. I drove, Steve continued to sit in the passengers seat, and Sam was stuck in the middle of Natasha and Sitwell in the back seat.

"We've got, like, fifteen hours," noted Natasha.

"We might be cutting it a bit close," said Steve. He began a countdown on his watch.

To ensure we were all on the same page, I asked, "Is there an actual plan for this, or are we just going to storm in?"

"Either way, you'll never succeed," doubted Sitwell.

Collectively, the four of us said, "Shut up."

The car went quiet at the right time; a thud sounded from the roof. At a quick glance, I noticed the roof caving in. No one had time to question the dent. A flash of silver broke through the window behind my seat, ripped Sitwell from his spot, and threw him from the car. Sharp inhales by Steve and I occurred when we heard the splat of his body smashing against a semi-truck.

Bullets broke through the back window. I barely noticed Natasha jump into Steve's lap. She pulled Steve's head down, narrowly missing a bullet, then her foot slammed into my shoulder, moving me from the bullet aimed for my head. 

I stomped on the break pedal. Our attackers body was flung from the roof. Expertly, effortlessly, he made a careful landing on the road in front of us. He skidded to a stop by using his arm-- his metal arm.

Surprise didn't explain our feelings. In fact, our feelings were non-existent, for the moment, because there was no time for reactions. A black SUV rammed into our bumper. Without any acceleration from our own car, the vehicle pushed us. Again, the metal armed man jumped on our car. His arm smashed through the windshield and ripped the steering wheel from my hands.

Guessing his next objective was to pick us out of the car one by one, I dove in the backseat. I wiggled on Sam's lap, he grabbed a hold of me, I tried to find a tight grip on the door.

"When?!" I yelled to Steve.

"It's bound to flip!" he shouted back, also frantically finding a hold on the door and Natasha.

"During that, push," I clarified for Sam.

The tire on the back left raised, not longer after, the front tires began to follow its lead. Not a peep came from any of our mouths during the forced exit of the airborne car, nor when the broken doors hit the pavement and slid down the road. When our door came to a stop, I let out a heavy exhale, dizzy beyond comprehension. 

A pop reached my ears; a grenade being launched. Sam, already recovered and on his feet, grabbed my body and threw me to safety behind a parked car. He dove himself. Contact from the grenade didn't reach us, as it was originally aimed at Steve. The grenade exploded upon contact with his shield. He went flying from the express way bridge. 

Bullets rained down on the remaining three. Natasha hopped over the breaker to duck from the shooters. Soon after, she jumped to the ground below. Sam and I were the last two targets on the bridge.

"You stay here," I told him, "Cover us from above. I have to get the shield back to Cap."

"Are you sure you can..." implied Sam. He meant to ask if I was stable enough to open my portals. The last time I was in the presence of the metal armed man, I failed to save the Director. 

Approaching steps and a gun being cocked silence Sam and I. We crawled to a different side of the car for cover. I bent over, watching the shoes pass.

Almost silently, I said, "Every time I'm around him, they don't work."

"Maybe he's got a device that's blocking you," suggested Sam. His head popped out from around the car, ensuring the attacker didn't look back at us.